Iondaee looked away, his eyes misting. “The wealth has come at a terrible price. Since our first meeting with the French, a great sickness has ravaged our people. Many have died, mostly the young and old, including all of our elders. The dead also included my mother and father.”
“I'm sorry,” said Jesse.
Iondaee looked at him strangely. “They are now with you and the other spirits of your world. Why are you sorry?”
“I…I'm sorry that they are no longer here to guide you,” answered Jesse, flustered, not yet understanding the spiritual world to which he made himself a member. “Without your elders, how did your people manage to survive?”
“The survivors attempted to follow our customs and traditions as best as we could. But soon after the sickness began, the black robes, the leaders of the white man's God, came to our villages. They told us that my people had been stricken with sickness for not following the commandments of the white man's God. They said that the answer to our desperate situation was to live in their ways and to follow their direction. If we did as the black robes directed, then their God would protect us from further sickness.”
Jesse frowned. “What kind of directions did they give you?”
Iondaee's eyes narrowed. “To throw away our beliefs, our culture. They don't believe in the Sacred Circle, that all things in this world are sacred and interconnected. They tell us that humans have been given this world and that all living creatures are beneath us, to be consumed. That is wrong. Humans are weak. We depend on the plants, animals, water and air for life. How can humans think they are so powerful when it takes so little to destroy us?”
Jesse thought about the pollution, deforestation and extinctions that lay ahead for humans in the future. “You are right about everything, Iondaee. We do depend on the world. Is that what the black robes wanted? For you to give up your culture?”
“That, and more. They needed our hands, as well. With so many of our warriors dead from disease, the black robes were afraid of an invasion by our powerful enemy to the south, the Iroquois. The Iroquois dislike the French because the French refuse to trade with them. The black robes told us to help them build what they called a fort. The fort is now finished. It is a huge, protected village with tall walls and even guns to help defend it against attack. The fort was completed ten years ago.”
Jesse looked around nervously. The idea of a nearby fort with armed men worried him. A deer would make for good target practice.
“How close is this fort?”
He pointed down the creek with his knife. “Ste. Marie is a day's walk north towards the Great Water.”
“And that's where you and your people live, in this fort?”
Iondaee shook his head. “No. Ste. Marie is only for the black robes and the other French. My nation lives in many large and small villages throughout this area. My village is further up this creek. That is where I stay.”
Jesse was confused. “And how do the black robes communicate with you if you don't live in Ste. Marie?”
Iondaee frowned. “They come to us. We listen, but we do not believe. Others, however, do. They have divided our nation into Christians and traditionalists. We are now a diseased and divided people. We are no longer strong.”
At least Jesse now knew where he was in time. He remembered from his pioneer unit at school that Ste. Marie had been built a long time ago, even before Canada was a country. His uncle had mentioned it as well during the hike. He couldn't remember how long ago it was built or what had eventually happened to the famous site. Jesse shrugged. That information wasn't really important. But while he was having this dream, he might as well have some fun and explore.
“I would like to see your village.”
Iondaee was shocked. “You would come into my village? But you are a spirit. You cannot be seen by anyone else but me.”
Jesse tried his best deer smile. “Your hunters all saw me in the deer pen fifteen years ago, remember? I guess you might say that I am a special kind of spirit, a spirit for everyone.”
Iondaee thought for a moment, then grinned with excitement. “Let me go back to the village first. If anyone dared to shoot at you by mistake…I could not imagine the fury of the forest spirits. Please, stay here. I will return shortly. A spirit coming to our village for all to see! What an uplifting sign this will be for our people!”
Before Jesse could reply, Iondaee was up and running along the edge of the creek. Jesse figured Iondaee would be a while. He looked around. He noticed that the area in which Iondaee had been meditating was almost like a large island, and it reminded Jesse of a castle moat. The creek did a partial circle around the area, with only a small neck of land, about a metre wide, bridging the gap to the rest of the forest.
Jesse knew from geography that such a curve in a creek or river is called a meander. In time, the creek would work its way through the remaining bit of land with the ends of the curves eventually silting up and cutting off the meander from the creek altogether.
While he waited, he decided to help nature out by digging at the remaining land with his hoof. He quickly found out that a hoof made a terrible shovel. He had barely made a dent in the land bridge when the panting warrior returned from his run.
“The village is overjoyed that you will be coming to visit. But I don't even know your name, oh great spirit.”
Jesse gingerly stepped out of the creek. “My name is Jesse.”
“Jesse?” repeated Iondaee, confused. “I have never heard of such a name for a spirit.”
“Please, Iondaee, think of me more as a friend than a spirit. I think it will work out better for both of us that way.”
Iondaee was stunned. “A friend to a spirit of the forest? This is a great honour!”
Jesse started walking along the path Iondaee had taken. “Well, let's go see the village.”
“Wait. Before I go, I would like to do something in your honour.” Iondaee removed his knife. “This is my valued hunting knife. This is the knife that I was going to use to attack you when you first appeared. As of now, I never want to see it again.”
Iondaee moved to the centre point of the meander. He used the tip of the sharp knife to cut into the ground. Then, using his knife and fingers, he dug a hole. He gently lowered the knife into the ground with both hands and buried it. Finally, he placed a large flat rock on top of the freshly dug hole.
“May this be a symbol to you of my shame. I attacked my very own guardian spirit. This knife will never be used again to harm the creatures of this forest.”
“Thank you,” said Jesse, touched, but unsure of what else to say. “Shall we go see your village?”
Iondaee smiled and nodded. Jesse was having a feeling of déjà-vu as they rounded the bend in the creek and climbed a lush hill. This area seemed so familiar. It was then that he remembered the path they were on was exactly the same path he and his uncle had taken to their campsite! If that was the case, thought Jesse, then over this next hill should be…
As they reached the summit, Jesse stopped in awe. The ancient mounds that his father and uncle had discovered could no longer be seen. In their place was a village which Jesse could never have imagined! Around the village, in the cleared, fertile ground, were magnificent gardens of vegetables. The vegetables were arranged in small circular links, with the centre of each link being occupied by immature stalks of corn. Growing up and around the stalks were vines of bean plants. Then, protecting the bean and corn plants from hungry rodents, were circular bases of prickly squash.
The village was surrounded by four oval-shaped walls of sharpened sticks that rose at least three metres into the air. The stockades were supported with heaps of dirt that had been piled along the base of each wall. Between the sticks themselves, smaller branches and bark were woven in order to give the wall strength and support.